Arts
by Dear Aunt Elladora
Summary: When Dean asks Lavender if he can sketch her, she's quite taken aback. But as he draws, a conversation changes the way Lavender's been seeing things for the better.


Parvati, in her own sickening way, was just like ice-cream and candy. The type candy you eat bunches and bunches of when you think Mummy won't catch you but it makes you so sick you vomit it up everywhere. And even though it's made you sick, it still tastes so sweet you keep coming back to it. Boys just seem to _flock_ to Parvati.

I'm skinnier than Parvati - my legs are longer, my chest is bigger, hips wider. I have to watch what I eat and go on runs to make myself feel healthy when Parvati can just cram her face with doughnuts and slices of Muggle pizza and butterbeer after butterbeer. My grade in Divination is higher than Parvati's, but Professors just _love_ her.

She's blond where I'm brunette, she looks good in anything where yellow and brown and deep purple make me look horrible. Her bedspread is cleaner and she packs neater, her handwriting curvier than mine and her her lips pout ever-so-perfectly. She even has a _twin, _for Merlin's sake. She's pretty, perfect Parvati Patil and I'm just mediocre Lavender Brown.

Which is why I was, quite frankly, shocked when Dean told me he wanted to draw a picture me. I mean, I thought it was some sort of sick joke. How many times does someone walk up to you and say "Can I sketch you?" Even more so, why did he walk up to _me_?

But I gave in and he smiled this huge smile and led me to this corridor and sat me down in this room and told me how to pose and such. He carried a little case of his art supplies shruken and transfigured them back to norm and he began.

...and time ticked on....and on... and on...

It was quite boring, sitting there. Dean's head could be seen bobbing up from his work in his lap to study one little bit on my face, biting his tongue and furrowing his brow. After a few minutes, the silence was too hard to bear.

"Er, Dean, can I talk?" I asked, trying very carefully not to move to much - which actually is alot harder than it looks.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, just. Just don't move. Good sport, you are, Lav, ah. There." He said, ovbiously preoccupied by his sketching, but allowing me to talk was a gift.

"So," I began, "what's the point of this?" To get a straightforward answer you might as while be straightforward, I figure.

"Anatomy. Been thinking about doing ... people. And Seamus won't let me draw him. Says it creeps him out. Me looking at him. Caught a glimpse... at my anatomy book. Naked men, you see, in the later chapters... rather freaked 'im out I s'pose." Dean's response was filled with gaps as he answered, still attempting to concentrate on drawing.

"N-naked?" I stuttered, suddenly very self conciense. I hadn't really considered the fact Dean _was_ doing alot of looking at my face for this sketch.

"Didn't read that bit. Don't care 'bout it... just faces."

"You think someone's face says alot about someone?" I asked, not knowing where it came from and half regretting it once it came out.

"Yeah... oh, tons. Like Neville... see Neville's got them big eyes... cos he wants to see the world. And... 'ermione too, you see, the way you see her brows all crinkled... means she's a thinker. And ... well, lots more..."

I listened keenly to what Dean said and let a silence lap over us as I thought. He was quite observant it seemed - but everyone said artists were observant. And Dean seemed certainly like an artist to me - we were friends, somewhat, fairly close. We never danced and he'd consoled me in Three Broomsticks when Seamus dumped me. And Dean was cute, oh very cute, with big brown eyes and a huge, white smile. I just had never thought about him like that.

But the question still pestered me, why me? Sure Seamus wouldn't let him, but so many others would love it to have a portrait of themselves. And his assumptions of Hermione and Neville were so on target -- Hermione's brow always _did_ crinkle, now that I thought of it.

"What do you see of me?" I said before I had time to think, and felt rather stupid. What if it wasn't something nice? What if my stringy brown hair made me look overbearing -- or something?

"Well... lo's of diff'rent things, I s'pose. Your smile... means you're positive. And... your eyes... well..." he trailed off, and I noticed the faintest of blushes creeping up his cheeks as he continued to work, his eyes now on my ear.

A wash of anger flooded over me. Perhaps he was doing this as some sort of cruel joke? What was so wrong with my eyes, anyway? They were bright blue, yes, and ... sort of shone. But what was he thinking that was so mean that he couldn't tell me?

"What about my eyes, _Dean_?" I snapped angrily.

"Your eyes.... Lavender... they're.... gorgeous. They ... shine to show that .... you keep on going no matter what happens. And... you don't do like Parvati does.... lining her eyes... in that heavy black stuff. You're... cleaner, I s'pose. And unique... and ... as pretty on the inside ... as you are on the outs."

This time it was my turn to blush and Dean kept drawing, his eyes flicking up to my face less and less. He put down his pencil and turned the drawing upside down, squinted a bit, then let out a desivie breath.

"It's done." He smiled up at me and rubbed his eyes. I stood at stretched a bit, then went over behind him to look at his work.

It looked alarmingly like me and it was quite well drawn - my eyes matched and my nose peaked so precisely correct - it didn't look like the work someone my age could've done. And my eyes, oh they were the best part, shaded so that they shone, as he had said.

"Dean. This is _fantastic_," I said as he stood.

"You're a doll for letting me do this, Lav, I've learned bunches already from having a model." He wrapped his arms around me in a very warm hug, then opened the door for me.

"You know what, Dean, me too. Me too." I smiled and pecked him on the cheek, smiling to myself as he led me back to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

**Author's Note:** ah, well, it was random. I was just thinking... Lavender is a color, Brown is a color, Dean is an artist. The original idea was to have it be a painting and it be less of a narrative and more of a dramatic piece. So I may go back and redo it cos, in all honesty, I didn't like the way it turned out. My best friend can draw and we got to be good friends cos he was in my art class - well, I like to think I can draw with an ebony pencil -- but we all elude ourselves. Is it a romance? You decide. I rather like them together, though.

**Reviews are loved, cherished, honored... and unfortunatly not expected. Sniffles. Proove me wrong and drop me a line?**


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